


DC Comics Threesome Ficlets

by Rubynye



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Ficlet Collection, Multi, Nonmonogamy, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Threesome Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-18
Updated: 2010-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-06 10:26:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small heap of moderately explicit threesomes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kon/Cass/Tim

Kon sometimes plays "Superhero Death Match" in his head. Not so much with who could kick whose ass, as other competitions. Like which of the Bats would be sneakiest, or quickest, or stubbornest. Today, he gets to watch it happen right in front of him, and that makes the gazillion feet of snow and the fucking freezing weather completely worth it.

"Here." Tim hands the cup of hot chocolate to Cass, or tries to. He's holding it steady even though the rest of him is shivering, because he's Tim, he's Robin, he's a great big showoff.

"Drink." Cass's voice is steady, but Kon can hear her teeth chatter when she's not actually speaking. She's shivering, too.

"I had some. The rest is y-yours." A shiver escapes into Tim's voice, and Kon, because he's a hero, doesn't snicker.

"Have more." Cass folds her arms tighter, like she's just facing Tim down and not hugging herself. She takes a breath to say more, which for Cass is a lot, but shivers so violently she hunches like she's gonna fold up and collapse.

Kon sighs and calls the damn contest a draw. "C'mere," he says, picking them both up, straight off the ground. If he goes high enough fast enough, while stretching his field--- there. Two snug, glaring Bats, up high enough to think twice about hurting him.

Tim hasn't even spilled any of the hot chocolate. If Kon concentrates... there. Cass has to grab it or wear it, so she grabs it.

"Cozy?" Kon asks, and gets simultaneous little growls, and grins. He's standing on air in the middle of a giant snowglobe, hugging Tim and Cass at the same time. Kon revises the contest results; he is _totally_ the winner.


	2. Bart/Kon/Tim

He's propped himself up against Kon in a sufficiently alert pose, but to be perfectly honest Tim is dozing when he feels Bart get up. Bart starts searching for something, rummaging loudly with the occasional crash; Tim considers opening an eye or both, but it's been a long day and Kon's not moving either. "Dammit, Bart," he slurs drowsily, breath stirring Tim's hair, "some of us wanna sleep, you know."

"But I had an idea and they were right here and..." Tim realizes he isn't really listening when Bart's voice stops washing over him and its absence jars him awake. Or maybe it's Kon's groan and Bart's simultaneous snicker.

Tim opens his eyes. And sits up. "Bart. What are you--"

"I wanted to see how they looked next to the originals," Bart says, holding out two action figures at arm's length. A Superboy and a Robin figure, to be precise. "I think Kon's is a little closer; your hair hasn't been like this for a year. And the cape's all wrong, but there's only so much they can do with plastic. And---"

Kon groans again, as if Bart's holding out a chunk of Kryptonite, and rolls over to drape his arm across his eyes. "Oh, don't even fucking remind me of those things."

"Why not?" Bart waves the Superboy figure around over Kon's head, and Kon bats at him with the hand not draped over his eyes, both of them speeding up into a blur. "I think you look pretty good as a toy." His voice stretches into a drawl. "I bet lots of girls buy these."

"You're as big an asshole as Tim." Kon's arm is still over his eyes, so Tim kicks him in the back of the thigh; he doesn't have his TK up, so Tim leaves his foot there, digging his toes in above the red bruise, and Kon squirms back into the massage.

Bart's flies both of the figures around over Kon's head. Kon TKs them from his hands, across the room; Bart crackles after them, pulls them out of the air, and starts divebombing Kon with them. Tim yawns and tucks his other leg beneath him, and waits.

The figures sail beneath the dresser with a crunching sound. Bart folds his arms and pouts. "What was that for?"

"For bugging me." Kon reaches up, but Bart blurs around to the other side of the bed, still pouting, hair swaying. It's an attractive effect, and Tim's going to be smiling soon. Now, in fact, as Kon sighs heavily. "You can buy another set tomorrow."

"You can buy me another set, with some of the money you make from them." Bart folds his arms tighter, frowning stubbornly in the way that used to make them ruffle his hair and increasingly these days makes them listen to him.

"What fucking money? That's the whole _problem_." Kon flops back onto his back, dropping his arm around behind Tim. "Every penny of my share goes into a trust fund Superman got set up. I won't get any of it till I'm eighteen."

"Oh." Bart flicker-blinks, and smiles. "Well, your effective age is about sixteen and a half, right? Maybe seventeen? So that's not---"

"No. Eighteen eighteen. Really eighteen." Tim watches Kon's chest rise and fall as he sighs. He may have put on another layer of muscle.

"Dude. That sucks." Bart flops back down onto the bed again, swinging his legs across Tim and leaning back against Kon. "Ok, well I guess you've got a right to be pissed."

"Yeah," Kon agrees mournfully. Tim yawns again and lies back down, resting his head on Kon's shoulder.

"What about you, Tim?" Bart wiggles, against and mostly atop Tim. "You get anything from the Robin figures, or is Batman taking it all or what?"

"They help with the batarang budget," Tim says, closing his eyes.


	3. Bette/Gar/Vic (Flamebird/Beast Boy/Cyborg)

"And that's the secret to public speaking." Bette hitches her leg a little higher over Gar's thighs, tucked against his side, flexing her wrist smoothly. "Think you can remember it?

"Don't talk toooh, God, don't tell me, Jesus, Flame--" Gar gasps, twisting and tugging against Vic's one-handed hold on his wrists; Bette tweaks his nipple and snickers as Gar beats the back of his head against Vic's armor-plated stomach. "Actor, remember? I knew public speaking when you, _fuck_ god yes like that!"

Vic laughs, pushing his hand out of Gar's hair, stroking down his face. "Saladhead, you're never gonna manage talking and coming at the same time." Bette laughs triumphantly at way Gar's eyes are rolling beneath flickering eyelids, even though and maybe because the way he presses his face into Vic's hand makes her blush; she presses her cheek against his bottle-green-flushed shoulder and speeds up a little, and can barely hear Vic's low warm rumble of "and you're gonna come for us, aren't you?" under Gar's groan as he bucks under her restraining thigh and comes over her hand, nearly up to his ribcage.

When Bette lifts her head, It'd take a stronger woman than she is to keep from grinning at Gar's melted, blissed-out expression; she's so busy looking at him that she gasps when Vic catches her wrist in his hand, the metal just that tiny bit cooler and that much sleeker than skin, and pulls it up to his mouth. And winks at her as he licks her palm with an entirely human-feeling, wet, hot tongue. She makes her grin wider to keep her mouth from falling open, and her voice quivers when she says, "I think he forgot everything I said, Vic. He's gonna spend all day tomorrow at the UN telling knock-knock jokes."

Gar's purring just like the cat he could be if he wanted. "Shut up, Bette," he says warmly, and reaches up to pull her wrist out of Vic's grasp, haul her down and kiss her.


	4. Clark/Dick/Tim

More or less related to [](http://petronelle.livejournal.com/profile)[**petronelle**](http://petronelle.livejournal.com/)'s story:  
<http://www.livejournal.com/users/petronelle/179304.html?style=mine#cutid1>

  
Tim has watchful, pale blue eyes. In some lights, they're almost gray, or almost silver. Dick remembers the first time he looked into those eyes, and the first time he saw his smile reflected in them. He traces a fingertip over Tim's closed eyelids as lightly as he can, but a line crinkles between them and Tim murmurs in his sleep.

Dick pulls his hand up; Clark reaches over his shoulder to grab his wrist, pull his hand back and kiss it, one short warm kiss to the back, a longer one to the palm. Clark's lips are warm and soft on his skin, but Dick can feel the strength banked behind them, can feel it a little more when Clark draws a hot swirl on Dick's palm with the tip of his tongue.

Dick's used to the way pain radiates up his nerves. It's always a happy little surprise, the way pleasure does. He sags back against Clark's solid heat, trying not to sigh too loudly. Tim's face is relaxing again, and Dick hopes he's having good dreams. He deserves to.

Clark licks his hand again, the ball of his thumb, diagonally up across his palm. Heat traces up Dick's arm till he shivers, and has to bite his lip to keep from moaning. Clark lifts his head to smile at Dick, gently and knowingly, and kisses him; for a moment, all Dick has to do, all he can do, is relax into the overwhelming feel of Clark's kiss.

For a moment. Then Clark lets him go, and Dick smiles back as he drops his head on Clark's shoulder. "I was gonna let him sleep, really," he whispers.

Clark shakes his head a little, smiling. "It's difficult not to touch him, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Dick turns his head, as Clark rests their cheeks together, and they watch Tim, breathing evenly, lips parted and face smoothed. "Yeah, it really is." Asleep, Tim looks like the teenager he's supposed to be, if Dick ignores all the bruises and scars... but he can't, any more than Clark would refuse to notice his. "Do you think..."

"He's going to be fine," Clark breathes into Dick's ear, and brushes his lips down along Dick's neck. Dick sighs under the touch, closing his own eyes as Clark wraps his arms around him, though he does stretch out one hand to rest his fingertips touching Tim's. Clark lightly, lightly sets his hand atop both of theirs.

Dick is asleep when Tim turns his hand over and folds his fingers around Dick's.


End file.
